


Why House Hates Turkeys

by ryuukko



Category: House MD
Genre: Flashback, Holidays, M/M, PTSD, Slash, Thanksgiving, tw:child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuukko/pseuds/ryuukko
Summary: House running from his family is one thing,  but there is a whole set of other things that Wilson didn't know about when he opted to trick house into taking a road trip with him to his home. ( this is a multi chapter fic and it will be completed within a few days,  since it's Thanksgiving.  I'm typing it up on my phone so it might take a while, my laptop is broken :/ )





	1. Chapter 1

House gripped his plastic bag with all his might. The panic set in when he started to slide backwards. The wind had reached a record high, and winter made an early presence. Getting from his car to the building was miserable enough, now he'd have to worry about his lunch breaking Out of the stupid plastic bag. Something had possessed him to go outside, pick up extra things for lunch, and trek the treacherous gusts. At the curb, he hooked his cane on the side of the parking meter to gain some traction. He ended up slipping forwards and hitting his crotch right up against said pole.  
The world was spinning, and it focused into three familiar faces.

-3 minutes ago-

Chase stepped off of the bus, groaning at the blast of cold air that smacked him in the face. Part of him preferred this to his home country's blistering, year round sun. The only down side here was the commute. His current apartment had a higher rent. He lived in the city, busses were cheaper than gas. He didn't care in the end if he had to wait a couple of minutes in the cold. However, he did mind that his bus was delayed 5 hours. Cabs were out of the question, so one late day wouldn't kill him. 

For Foreman, the car was essential. Wasting time was not his favorite thing to do, and he wasn't stupid with his budget. The hardest thing about getting to work was dealing with it. His boss got away with too much, and put him through too much. He could never understand how people would compare him and House. House was an arrogant, self-centered bastard and-  
He shook his head. This was not the way to start off the day.

Cameron, unlike her former colleagues, was heading home. She completed her late shift, clocked out, and threw on her coat over what she was wearing. Her new job was chaotic, but she liked it that way. Kept her safe from prying accusations and analysts. There was never a dull moment.

"Is that House?" Foreman asked himself, then broke out on a jog on the salted pavement. Cameron stopped dead in her tracks and looked down. Chase was startled but was smart not to run. 

House blinked, seeing his old fellows. His eyes were teared up as a reflex and he was curled into himself. By some stroke of luck, the red stuff behind his head was just tomato soup. The paper container must have cushioned his head from the pavement. 

Foreman sighed and shook his head. Cameron and Chase helped him up and checked frantically for any injuries. House just sat there, mournfully gazing at his smashed sandwiches and soup.

\---

House gazed up at the ceiling. Cameron being Cameron obsessed over making sure he was okay. Empty stomach plus the usual leg pain was enough to make him snap. He probably had a bit of whiplash too. 

"There's nothing wrong, nothing broken. You can stop now."

Cuddy walked by. "No, she can't. We are doing this little thing called protocol and also avoiding you doing something even more stupid than usual!"

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sending you home for the day."

House was taken aback for a brief second. "Oh no. There is no way in hell I'm going." He jerked away from Cameron and to his office. "I got a case."

\---

It was a low move, but The director knew one way to get through to the man. Through his best friend.

The oncologist boy wonder was working of all sorts of forms and signatures. Unlike House, his department head position gave him actual loads and loads of paperwork. He didn't even notice his boss come in. She cleared her throat, which caused his head to snap up. 

"House?"

She nods.

"Avoiding his family again?" 

She nods.

"Ugh." He rubs his face and then gets up and heads out the door.


	2. The struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More to come!

Wilson stepped back into the office. "OOOOH HOOOO NO! Find somebody else to do it!"

Cuddy crossed her arms. "And who would you suggest?"

"Anyone! Just leave me out of it for once!"

"What's making this time so much more unbearable than the others?"

"You know how he likes to play mind games! It's a holiday and he's at his worst on holidays!" 

"You've put up with it for the past 17 years, you can deal with a few more days. Besides, don't you think he might drink a bit too much this year and....."

".....am I like the universal House middle man or something?" 

"Okay. I don't know what you're talking about. Figure out something and there will be nice bonus check when you get back."  
\---

Two days to Turkey day. Stage one was complete. Tricking House into going on a road trip to an indoor music festival with his favorite musicians playing. James had even bought tickets to 'prove' it wasn't a trick. In actuality, those tickets were being sold to people who happened to be in House's last home town. 

"Wow, they're still playing ABBA out here..." House mused. Getting off the major highway, there was nothing but cornfields for miles. Everything was going fine until House's shrill ringtone pierced the quiet hum of the motor.

"Hi sweetie!"

"Hi mom.."

"I'm so happy you're joining us for Thanksgiving! You know how much your father loves the holiday!"

Her bright and cheery tone made his stomach drop. His icy heart cracked a little, having to tell her that she was probably mistaken. 

"Oh, well Dr.Cuddy told me your little friend was driving you here.."

"..."

"Gregory?"

"I'll call you back." He snaps the phone shut, turning to Wilson. "You turn this damn thing around or I will run this into a ditch."

"And where would you go?" James gripped the steering wheel, ready for a fight. "Don't be an ass, it's just one dinner."

"You don't understand anything, do you?"

"Yeah, I do. You're five and selfish. Oh, and holding your breath Won't do any good."

From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, House was fuming. He needed out. Now. But there was no possible way to make a daring escape. At least, no physical way.

"Why are you doing this? Don't you have your own family to annoy?"

And thus, the silent treatment began.

\---  
"I'm boooooooooored!"

Poor James was swimming in his thoughts to keep his mind sharp. They've almost been driving for 11 hours straight. He knew if he stopped, House would try to work his way to a bus or even a cab. Thoughts of Amber floated in his mind, man, he wished he was spending the holidays with her. Emotionally, he wasn't doing too great. 

"Not even one bathroom break." House smirked and played with a waterbottle in one hand. Wilson grabbed it and tossed it in the back. They were almost there. 

With in hour, Wilson finally got to do a well deserved stretch, and then a not so deserved job of yanking his best friend from the other seat.  
"No! You can't make me! I won't-"

"Come along sweetie." House's mother had made it to the car and gentle placed a hand on her son's shoulder. Greg gave up and went inside.


	3. RIP @ Houses leg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making everyone here so ooc and bland, I'm probably going to edit all of this later (next chapter will be posted by 11/26

An unmanly screech came from the diagnostician when he stepped on the front porch. There was a wild turkey staring right back at him. He trembled and grilled his cane. James cocked an eyebrow and then walked towards it. "Shoo! Go on!"  
It didn't move.

Wilson rolled his eyes and pushed his friend through the door.

They were greeted with a bellowing laugh. "Ah, son. Nice of you to show your mug around."

Tired blue eyes swept across the floor. His father was probably the reason for the feathered menace on the porch. John had a satisfied smirk on and stepped aside as his son went upstairs.

His old room was filled with the vet's metals and uniform. No bed to be found. With a heavy sigh, he headed back down stairs and went through the annoying small talk.  
\--  
"That's a really big bird...." Young Gregory House was pushed ahead of his father. He hated hunting. It was cold, his boots had holes at their soles, and he was usually forced to go without breakfast. He felt his hands shake out of fear and hunger. Papa said that if the family were going eat tonight, he'd have to catch it first. He had to earn his keep.

The child looked back at his father, looking for guidance. John didn't respond. With a frown, the boy crept forward. He was short for his age, the turkey was a little taller then he was.

They bird suddenly stopped peaking at the ground and stared at him. A few others came into view, and Gregory started to shake more visibly. 

"Just shoot the damn thing!"

The birds charged at him and he screamed. Unknown to the child, his pursuers could run at the speed of a two lane road state speed limit. It didn't take long for them to catch up with him. John looked up and started to shoot. Due to the thickness of the bird's the bullets just missed his son. His cocky demeanor had no room for pity.

"How can I even call you my son after that? Get up!" 

The little boy tried not to cry, but he couldn't help but blubber a bit. His father grabbed him by the wrist, and then pushed him in the direction of the house. "Go throw out your baseball cards, before I burn them. You're sleeping outside tonight."

Gregory gasped and then took off. His face and hands stung, as well as other parts of his body. He managed to run in and steal some food from the counter before hiding in the dog house. There, he took his pocket knife out and started to carve out the story.  
\-------  
-Thankgiving Eve-

Gregory, now an adult, gazed out on the back porch. He had one way to get out and away from his family. And Wilson.

Their family dog was no longer there, but the dog house was. He limped out into the wet grass and cold air, and sat on the side facing away from the house. Nobody could find him out here. 

"House?"

He looked up. "Go find your own hiding spot."

"What's with you? Why are you like this?"

"You could never understand. Why are you still here?"

"I don't know."

"That's a crappy answer."

"Is it really? And you being all mysterious and evasive for no reason totally makes sense." 

House signed. He handed Wilson a flashlight. "Go look in the dog house."

"I can't fit in there."

"Really Wilson, really?"

"Fine." He poked his head in. "There's something carved on the inside."

"No shit sherlock."

"Okay, your chicken scratch is hard enough to read on paper."

"That was my bedroom."

Wilson's frustration faded. "What?" 

"My father made me sleep out here a lot, in this very spot. One Thanksgiving, when I was a child, he made me go hunting for the main course. Turns out the things travel in large groups." He rubbed his leg and closed his eyes. "The rest isn't pretty, I'll save you the sob story."

A familiar call pierced the cold night air. To most, it was pretty funny. To Greg, it was terrifying. He scrambled into the dog house, gasping at the pain shooting through his leg. He didn't really fit and ended up getting stuck. Wilson sat there in shock. Dinner was in 20 minutes and he had to get house back to the dinning room somehow....  
Or did he?


	4. how about nah

“Oh, buck up! You got a bit dirty, so what?”  
If there was one thing House could share about his father, it was that he didn’t believe in pain medication. The man thought that any pain could be dealt with through natural means and sheer will power. Therefore, John House was at a loss yet again for gaining any respect from his son. It baffled Gregory how a his sweet old mother claimed that his ‘father’ loved him in any way. If by love, she meant crippling fear to a list of things, places, or memories, then he did receive a lot of that.  
Wilson did his best to focus on the food instead of the way his best friend squirmed and dodged every jab that his father took at him. Wither House Sr. was aware of it or not, every comment towards his son turned out scathing in a reprimanding tone. On the other hand, driving for an entire day really wears into the next, and makes food ten times more mesmerizing. At some point, House excused himself to the bathroom. Probably to pop a few pills. Wilson wasn’t sure if House’s parents knew that he was still taking his Vicodin. Later on, he got his answer.

“Those are some large pills you got there.” John tried to grab them. Greg quickly tossed the vile in his pocket. To the oncologist’s shock, the father went as far as to hold his hand out as if Greg were a child. Icy blue eyes glared uneasily at the open palm, then to his father’s face, and back and forth for a few seconds. Wilson’s stomach lurched at the submissiveness, he was actually going to hand over his pills without a word. He had to step in.

Wilson grabs House’s wrist and then looks up. “You need those.”

House stared at him for a moment. He nodded and then popped one dry. People who weren’t used to seeing him do this always got uneasy. Wilson was immune.

Wilson got up. “You know, they say it’s good to walk after a large meal.”

“Um…Cripple?”

“Yeah, you can make it around the block.

House then remembered his options. One, he could stay at the table, alone with his parents as Wilson chickened out and walked aimlessly around town or option two, escape the dreaded dinner table. 

“Let’s make it two.” House groans as his gets up.


End file.
